Cave Du Vin is a Portal to the Netherworlds, and in the Netherworld I am extremely content.

I forgot how great some wine and cheese in a dark cellar can make you feel about yourself, especially while discussing the economic geography of Milwaukee. It can make you forget that you look awful in everything you wear, and that you need to stop staring at your exasperating completely untouchable crush during work, and that you were ever mad at anything in the entire world ever, including the man who loves you most in the world.

Possibly I am the universe's cheapest date.

For instance, let's talk about Iron Man.

I saw it last night. It was AWESOME. It was everything I hoped Transformers would be. Giant metal man crashing against other Giant metal man. Robert Downey Jr. was absolutely perfect playing himself. I was able to completely get into it despite the obviousness. Hurrah for them! I found both substance and sustenance, especially in the glib little fight scene where Jeff Daniels is venting his anger and resentment against the little reformed playboy he helped create. If only corporate warfare could involve steel golems, everyone would be much better off, including the crazy CEOs.

In collaboration with the movie for my Tuesday night mindfuck, I read the part in Lady Chatterly's Lover where Connie expresses her absolute terror at the insanity of society (beginning of Chpt 10?). They should replace Jane Eyre in sophomore reading classes with this book. It's the most modern novel I've read in the last ten years, and I've read it ten times at least in the last two. Where she looks in the mirror at 27 and notices her body withering for lack of sex? Absolutely where I'm at right now folks. Dead on.

Tomorrow night we'll be back to Top Chef commentary, but for now, let's ask this...Is the reason that feminism keeps not winning despite the rise of every other social movement because it's so gigantic of a task? Or because women are so much more sexual than men that we can't stop begging for it, with our clothes, our money, our thoughts? We think we're empowered by having freedom to have more, but in fact we enslave ourselves by wanting to be attractive to everyone? That we gave rise to this movement of spending all our money on shoes and hair and makeup, of being the successful glam girl, deluding ourselves that this was real freedom, but in fact we just want to be loved even more than before, and now we've raised our own standard so high we can't get beyond it? Be powerful and sexy ladies! But god that's hard. That's a full time job. That leaves no room for other considerations. Stop wanting to be fucked so much girls, and we'll someday figure out how to not hate the women who really care about more important things. Like the presidency.

But I know, life is essentially boring if you don't constantly strive to make it otherwise, and constantly striving is hard. But sleeping with people is easy. I'm just saying, if that's what you've got, then keep it easy. Don't make it your full time job.

My full time job these days is magic fairy princess. Only I'm stuck in the body of a bored awkward 20-something. So I don't get benefits.

Also, I fully intend to use the term 20-something while I still can. I like the ambiguousness of 20-something. It can mean any age between 20 and 30...or it can mean how many screwdrivers it takes to convince you I'm enchanting. How many polar bears are left in the world. How many children one woman in Mississippi can produce. How many votes Obama will lose by. How much I spend each day to get to work. How many hours of Project Runway reruns one girl can take in a row. How many days before the world ends because Oprah started to feel neglected and pressed the big red button she has locked up in her secret Reno, NV studio.